


Muddled Waters

by JustGail



Series: swim au [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Basically I do what I want, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Murder, Swimming, andrew's pov, as last time - the timeline is a little weird, it sort of cuts off?? I might write a part three, this is part two but I sort of hope you can read it as a standalone, this is the part of the timeline where he murders tilda so like??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 21:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGail/pseuds/JustGail
Summary: Andrew Minyard was not a man who wanted.





	Muddled Waters

**Author's Note:**

> I might come back and write a better intro soon, but I only have one functional hand right now and typing is a nightmare. This was posted on queerastronauts.tumblr.com, too, so please check it out there!  
> This falls under the prompt "fluorescent lights" as far as I'm concerned, but honestly, this story pretty much flew out of me, and I would've posted it on day 8 otherwise.

Muddled Waters

[1]

He couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t new, but it was true nonetheless. Maybe even moreso than usual.

The words echoed in his mind – when didn’t they? – but most of all, it was his face that stuck with him. The expression on his face when he said he would follow him. All the way to Colombia.

Coast to coast.

He stared up at the ceiling of his new room. More of a broom closet, really. In the next room – a proper room, room-sized – was Aaron, breathing steady; in the room next to that, was Tilda, probably awake – probably high.

He wanted a cigarette, but he didn’t want to get up.

Andrew Minyard – until recently, Andrew Doe – was not a man who wanted. He was not a man to give in to _want_.

But he wanted Neil Josten, and that kept him up at night, because he didn’t know how to want anything but destruction.

Oh, this would be a problem.

Besides, sometimes, when he went to sleep, he wasn’t sure he was going to wake up.

He opened the window to let the air in and the smoke out.

He had no way of contacting Neil. Neil Josten didn’t have a phone. The number he called the night he’d stayed over was disconnected. It might have been a real number once, but it certainly wasn’t any longer.

Neil Josten, too, had probably been real once. But now, Andrew was rendered unable to sleep because of a daydream.

Andrew had given him the new address, but in the week since Andrew had gotten on a plane and feared his way into a new state, a new house, a new family, Neil had not come.

Maybe Neil Josten didn’t have money for a plane. Maybe he had last minute arrangements to make. Maybe he actually had parents who really had to move across state lines.

Maybe he had changed his mind.

It didn’t matter, he supposed. Neil Josten had always been temporary.

[2]

It didn’t occur to him to check the swimming pools until two weeks had passed without a sign of Neil Josten. All the while, he had tried to tell himself he wasn’t waiting, and impatiently at that. But the day he took the keys from Tilda’s room and started driving from pool to pool, he could no longer lie to himself: he wasn’t waiting, he was _searching_.

He came home empty handed every day. In the meantime, he made a promise to Aaron. By the time a month had passed, he knew he was going to deliver.

It took time, planning a murder well enough to make it look like an accident.

“Oh.”

That was the first word Neil said to him. He was sitting on the steps leading up to the Minyards’ home. He looked – infuriating. Every inch of him made him want to hurt something. And his face –

“I told you months ago to stop looking at me like that,” Andrew reminded him. He was holding a cigarette, already lit, almost gone now. He offered it to Neil’s general direction.

Neil stood and approached him slowly, as if drawing near a dangerous animal. He supposed he might _be_ one. Neil stopped, too near to Andrew’s liking, and far too far away for what Andrew wanted – when he felt enough to want. Neil took the cigarette, held it like he always did, like it was more important than breathing, like it _was_ breathing.

“Figured that would be the first thing you’d say to me,” Neil said. “Aren’t you tired of repeating yourself?”

“Aren’t you?” Andrew countered. He lit another cigarette. “How are you finding Colombia?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Neil said. “I came straight here.” He gestured towards a duffel bag, lying next to the spot he’d been sitting.

Andrew blew smoke in Neil’s face, and he blinked. Didn’t even flinch.

“Where are you staying?” Andrew said.

“Are you going to show me around?” Neil responded. Andrew supposed that was better than an outright lie.

“Wait here,” Andrew said, and he went inside to grab the car keys and to catch a breath.

“This is a swimming pool,” Neil pointed out, “and that’s an Exy court. Why are we here?”

Andrew parked, and gestured to Neil to get out of the car as he turned off the engine. “You’re an addict. I decided to let you know the most convenient place to get your fix. Two in one.”

“I – “ Neil started, but then he caught himself. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Neil looked at Andrew; Andrew looked away. He was already bored, but most everything bored him. “There’s a high school here,” Andrew said. “It uses the Exy court, which gives you keys to the entire complex.”

“Is this the school _you_ go to?” Neil asked.

Andrew only nodded.

“I can probably get the paperwork sorted this week,” Neil continued. “What classes are you taking?”

Andrew listed them quickly. They didn’t interest him any more than anything else did.

“It’s a nice evening,” Neil said nonchalantly. “You could continue to show me around. Where do you see films?”

“Don’t,” Andrew said. He didn’t feel like explaining, so he didn’t.

Neil stepped closer. Andrew met his eyes, and they were burning. “Hey,” he said. He was unbearable.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

“Yes,” Neil breathed, and Andrew kissed him.

“What is it like? Living here?” Neil asked on the car ride back to Tilda’s.

Andrew debated how much to tell him. “Are you ready to answer my question yet?”

Back in California, he’d asked Neil who he was. The day Andrew left, he’d told Andrew he might tell him in Colombia. But Andrew had waited almost two months for Neil. He thought – he _hoped_ – that was the man who was in the car with him.

Neil leveled a steady gaze on him; Andrew didn’t look for more than a second, but after, he could still feel it. He didn’t reply either.

They were so good at this game. Asking questions they knew the other couldn’t answer. Asking questions that mattered.

“I signed on for Exy,” Andrew said instead. “Don’t look at me like that.” He didn’t need to look at him to know the expression on Neil’s face, so he kept his eyes on the road.

“I didn’t think you’d continue,” Neil said, his tone so earnest it made Andrew hate him even more. “I’m glad you did.”

Andrew had nothing to say to that, so he said nothing at all. When he parked next to Tilda’s house, he asked: “Are you staying the night?”

“Would you like me to?” Neil countered.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Andrew said. “Do you need to call your _parents_?”

Neil most likely did not miss the mocking tone, but he didn’t miss a beat. “No. Are you sure?”

“I told you not to ask stupid questions,” Andrew reminded him.

The house was not primed for guests, but Andrew didn’t think Neil needed to be warned. He knew he was unexpected, and Andrew supposed he’d probably seen worse. It was a mess, but only in the sense that two out of three inhabitants of the house spent too much time _high_ to really care about hygiene. Andrew kept his closet clean; until Tilda was out of the picture, it wasn’t possible to do the same with Aaron.

Neil, wisely, stayed silent until they stepped into Andrew’s tiny room. It wasn’t quite as small as a broom closet, but it _was_ rather small, and his bed was small. Neil would have to sleep on the floor or sleep touching Andrew, and Andrew hadn’t decided which option he was going to offer Neil yet. He closed the door behind them.

“Are you going to ask me?” Neil said finally, once he had finished inspecting every item in the sparse room. He was standing, leaning awkwardly against the door.

“Ask what,” Andrew said.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Neil replied. “That’s unbecoming of you. I’m the stupid one, remember?” He picked up a book from the single shelf hanging above the bed. “Is this any good?”

“No,” Andrew said, without bothering even to look at the book Neil had picked up.

Neil hummed doubtfully. “Can I borrow it?”

Andrew nodded once, and waited.

Neil finally sat down. There was a chair in this room which filled up most of the spare space; if Neil was going to sleep on the floor, they’d have to push the chair out into the hallway. It took him a long time to start. “I didn’t mean to take so long,” he began. “But…”

Andrew said nothing. He took out a cigarette and opened the window as he lit it. He offered a cigarette to Neil, who shook his head. Shrugging, he stuffed the box back into his jeans.

“I told you who I was running from, yes?” Neil asked. Andrew nodded once, so Neil continued. “He caught up to me. I ran.”

“Of course you did,” Andrew said. “You seem to think that the only options you have are to run or to drown.”

Neil did not strike him as amused, but Neil was never as easy to read as other people were. That said, every inch of Neil Josten was a lie, so that was to be expected.

“I can’t answer your question, not in the way you intended,” he said. “But I can give you a name.”

Andrew inhaled. Andrew exhaled. Andrew inhaled. Andrew exhaled. _Inhale_. “You asked me _who are you_ ,” Neil said. _Exhale_. “I’m Abram.”

 _Abram_. “Abram.” Andrew tasted it, the feel of it on his tongue, the way it sat in his mouth. It was round; it took space; it felt _real_. Not every inch a lie, then. Some of Neil Josten – a part he chose to give to Andrew – some of it was true.

[3]

Bone weary. That was the term he'd been searching for. His entire body ached for some sleep, a sleep to last a lifetime.

But he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the shadows cast from the tree through the window moving with the breeze. The florescent streetlight painted the wall opposite the window a faded orange. He could hear Neil breathing next to him, otherwise motionless. He turned his head just enough to see that his back was still turned to him; the faint light made Neil's hair same a lighter, redder shade. It suited him.

Andrew pushed that thought outside and concentrated on the even sound of Neil's breathing. Maybe if he breathed in time with Neil, he would be able to sleep, too.

Syncing his breath with Neil's was surprisingly easy. It didn't make him calm down, though; it made his heart race. He wanted so badly to be able to sleep.

Andrew Minyard felt heavy, burdened, and so, so desperately tired. He was bone weary, but it seemed he would stay that way for the time being.

There was no one to share the load with.

[4]

A murder took time to plan, but his time was filled nowadays with an incredibly undesirable distraction.

It was dangerous, to let someone in; it was even worse, because Neil was a runaway, and that was the worst kind of person to let in. There was no guarantee he wouldn't be gone in the morning, every morning; but every morning, there he was, right there beside him. He would sneak in after Aaron had fallen asleep, Tilda gone or locked away in her own room, and then he'd leave, just before dawn. In the hours in between, they slept, sometimes. Other times, they spent time exploring each other's bodies, learning where the boundaries were, pushing a little bit farther every time.

Neil refused to take his shirt off. Andrew's boundaries were much stricter, so he let it be.

In the hours after Neil snuck out, before Andrew left for school, Andrew would plan.

Andrew woke when Neil woke; he always did. But there was something strange about this morning, a disquiet in the air, in the way Neil was breathing. Neil’s back was turned to him – it always was - and it looked as if he was heaving. The low light indicated that this was earlier than Neil usually woke.

“Neil.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a demand that Neil come back from whatever other place he was in. Neil twisted around to face Andrew, and in his eyes he saw the kind of lack that he felt in his heart. _Alike_. They were alike in a way that Andrew didn’t want to face, not in that moment, not ever.

“Andrew,” Neil responded, his voice rough, ragged, raw. He reached for Andrew, but hesitated, as always before touching. His expression was unreadable.

Then, out of nowhere, he removed his shirt. Andrew couldn’t see the full extent of the ruin that was his skin in the low blue light of the hours before dawn, so he reached out and felt it himself. The terrible feel of it matched the terrible things he felt in response to this level of trust.

“Yes or – “

“Yes,” Neil said, no hesitation at all in his voice. He was looking at Andrew in that way that made his so furious he couldn’t breathe.

Andrew surged forward and met Neil’s lips with his own.

Neil’s breath hitched as the urgency of their kisses increased quickly, a push and pull unlike anything they’d ever done before. They paused only for a moment, for Andrew to show Neil where he was allowed to touch, and then they were back at it.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered, after.

Andrew didn’t respond. He shuffled through his jacket, lying on the floor beside the bed, and took out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He offered it to Neil, who shook his head, seemingly content to watch Andrew smoke in silence.

Andrew was not sure how much time had passed when Neil finally left, leaving Andrew alone, feeling strangely lighter and heavier at the same time.

The pieces fell together, and Andrew knew how he was going to murder Tilda Minyard.

At school, Neil and Andrew were distant. Now that Aaron was in the picture, there was an unspoken need for discretion. They interacted during practice – how Neil managed to get onto the team so late in the season was still a mystery to Andrew – but they shared no classes, and, while Neil presumably still spent his lunch hours in the library, Andrew now spent his lunches with Aaron.

Aaron, who hid his bruises so well you might even think they didn’t exist. But Andrew knew better.

Andrew asked Aaron to sit in on one of his exams.

Andrew went on a car ride with Tilda.

Tilda did not return from the car ride.

[5]

“Aaron! Andrew!” Nicky waved at them as he stepped out into the greeting area of the airport. It was incredibly early; the sun had only just risen. They waited for him to reach them, standing silently beside each other. “I’m so sorry – “ he stopped. “I’m sorry about what happened to Aunt Tilda.”

“The car is this way,” Andrew said, walking away, not waiting to see if Nicky or Aaron were following.

They reached the car Tilda had paid for – even if she hadn’t meant to. Andrew unlocked the trunk and stepped into the driver’s seat.

They drove off. Nicky was going to buy them a house with some of the money he had saved up while working in Germany, but for now, until he got a job to supplement those savings, they were staying at Tilda’s apartment. At first, Nicky tried to fill the silent with idle chatter; Aaron responded every once in a while, but by the time they approaching their neighborhood, he had grown silent. Andrew dropped both of them off, and drove off without saying a word.

If Andrew was any judge of Neil’s character, at this early hour he would either be running, or swimming in the school’s pool. He had no way of knowing where Neil’s route took him, so he drove to the pool. It turned out to be a safe bet; Neil was swimming in the lane farthest from the entrance in a full bodysuit. The pool was completely empty. Andrew sat in one of the poolside chairs, content to wait for now.

It didn’t take long for Neil to notice him. He raised two fingers at him, indicating that he was going to do two more laps; shortly, Neil got out of the pool and walked over, totally damp. “Hey,” he said, grinning at Andrew. “I’m just going to shower, but I’ll be with you in a few minutes. You can wait for me at the exit, if you like.”

Andrew gave him a curt nod and watched Neil walk away.

“So what are you doing here?” Neil asked. “I didn’t really expect to see you today.”

“Nicky showed up today,” Andrew said, but didn’t elaborate.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I didn’t stay over last night,” Neil reminded him. “So what, is he insufferable, or are you just staying out of his way?”

Andrew waved him off. “We’re going out for ice cream.”

“Alright,” Neil said. It was still strange to him, the fact that Neil accepted his unwillingness to share anything – the emptiness in him that meant a lack of anything to share – without question, unblinkingly.

It was a long drive to a little café they’d found a couple of weeks after Neil arrived in Colombia. It wasn’t outstanding, but it was out of the way, with relatively little risk of anyone spotting them. The dessert menu was unusually detailed, and although Neil rarely ate anything unhealthy, he obliged Andrew’s sweet tooth. They sat in a booth in the back; Andrew ordered a sundae, and Neil ordered one black coffee, ignoring Andrew’s gaze. He looked him over, head to toe, noting the frayed edges of his tee, the black circles under his eyes. The question hung on the edge of his tongue – _did you sleep at all last night?_ – but he didn’t ask.

“So do I get to meet him?” Neil asked. “Nicky?”

Andrew raised a brow.

“You didn’t introduce me to Aaron, I know, I know, but he’s in two of my classes, so I’ve _met_ him. But if we’re going to keep this going, I should meet him, just in case.“

“There is no this,” Andrew said. “If you need to sleep _at your parents’ place_ , then sleep there.”

“I think I should meet him,” Neil said stubbornly, ignoring the sarcasm. “I didn’t care about Tilda, but I think Nicky’s going to be more involved, based off the little you’ve told me and I overheard Aaron say to – ah, it doesn’t matter. My point is, I think it would be easier if he knew about me.”

Easier? Would it be easier? Neil was homeless in the truest sense, in the sense of being unable to ever build a home. He would never stay. Nicky would not understand this. Neil himself might not understand this. But Andrew did. What they’d been doing, it had no permanence. When Neil ran, all he would leave behind was the scent of his drugstore shampoo on Andrew’s sheets. The feel of scarred flesh beneath Andrew’s hands. The little sounds he made –

“Plea – “ Neil cut himself off. Andrew’s stomach clenched.

“What will you give me in return?” Andrew asked, aware that he was giving more ground than he wanted to, but seemingly unable to stop. He knew that Neil was temporary, but _easier_ meant letting him meet Nicky, for better or worse – most likely, worse.

He did seem to always let Neil have his way.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Neil said. “I’m the stupid one, remember?”

“Tomorrow,” Andrew said, and pulled Neil in for a kiss.

[6]

Nicky bought a house with three bedrooms in it. Andrew claimed the biggest room, and neither Nicky nor Aaron argued. The day after they moved in, Neil showed up with a duffel bag and a promise.

He wasn’t going to run away.

He was going to stay.


End file.
